


Havine & Relentless

by OnaDacora



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Tiefling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9169309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnaDacora/pseuds/OnaDacora
Summary: Relentless is Strudeloo‘s Tiefling Warlock (who everyone thinks is a Wizard) and Havine is my Human (secretly a Half-Dwarf, though she doesn’t know it) Cleric of Pelor.Basically this is set right after our first game, after the two of them met up with the rest of the party after arriving in a Dwarven outpost known as Dunn’s Gate where they also met up with a friend of Havine’s mother, Aungor (who is essentially like an uncle to her, but is actually her dad but she doesn’t know that). They’re staying at an inn before discussing their plans the next morning with everyone regarding a situation in the neighboring woods.Prior to the first game these two lovebirds had kissed and just started their relationship.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Strudeloo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strudeloo/gifts).



> Here's a post that also includes art of both characters! <3
> 
> http://onadacora.tumblr.com/post/155311716035/havine-relentless

“I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from today, but I’m not sure that was it,” Havine says, looking at at Relentless where he lays next to her, propped up on his side.

They’re on the bed in their shared room at the tavern, alone again after running a few errands around Dunn’s Gate with that strange group of adventurers hot on their heels. In all fairness, she  _ is _ very familiar with the outpost, and if they ghosted her steps she couldn’t rightly blame them, but it hadn’t taken long for her and her tiefling companion to somehow find themselves caught up amidst the lot of them. Even the innkeep, Whitney, had been quick to call them her ‘friends’.

She’s not even sure she knows all their names.

One hand cradles his head, black horns threatening to scrape the old headboard as his eyes flick from where his other hand is running through her hair to her face. (She loves when he does that; the playing with her hair. There’s something intimate about it in a way that feels so genuine. Special.) He lingers on her mouth for a moment before meeting her gaze, something soft in the way he’s looking at her. “I’m certain that you have encountered adventurers more often than I have, dear. You would know better than I.”

“I’ve helped a few small groups before; clearing out goblin nests, driving away bandits, that sort of thing,” she says, shifting a little closer to him. “This business in the forest is strange enough, and then this odd group. I--”

She’s interrupted by a sudden kiss, his fingers buried in her hair and pulling her closer as he leans over her. Her hand goes to his chest (he’s thin, all tall and reedy where she’s short and broad), not to push him away but just to touch him as she feels the scrape of pointed teeth against her full lower lip. A soft, pleased sound escapes her before he’s pulling away too soon, peering down at her with an affectionate smile.

Her fingers tangle in the front of his shirt, trying to keep him close though he’s not moving. “What was that for?” she asks him, her voice gone all breathy in a way that might be embarrassing if she wasn’t so keen on having  _ more _ from wherever that came from.

Relentless’s dusky purple skin goes darker across his face all the way to his ears, looking a little sheepish. “Forgive me, that was rather rude. You were in the middle of saying something,” he says, low and husky as his confidence returns in inches. “It’s only… I have been wanting to do that for the past few hours, but I’m afraid our company was making that impossible. And, I… That is to say…” Relentless clears his throat, nudging his spectacles a little higher up his nose with the hand tucked under his head. “I’m glad that you were amenable to sharing a room, because if we're going to be traveling with a large party for an extended period of time, tonight, I think I'd like you just for myself.”

Havine looks at him, something frantic fluttering in the pit of her stomach as she feels hyper aware of the bed beneath them, the closed door blocking them from the rest of the world, this moment of solitude before  _ who knows what. _ "Well, then you can have me.”

But he keeps speaking, pushing forward as if he has to explain himself to her. “I find that I’ve grown a bit selfish of your attention in the time we’ve spent together, and now that we won’t be alone--”

“Relentless,” she says, silencing him. She lets go of his shirt, bringing up both hands to cradle either side of his face. He goes still beneath her fingers, his attention wholly upon her in a way that makes her heart give a lurch. He could devour her with his eyes, with his absolute, unwavering focus in this moment. With how quickly he moves from thought to thought, when he looks at her,  _ waiting _ for her… It’s unlike anything else. “We’re alone.  _ Be _ selfish.”

There’s a beat of silence where he looks at her, opening his mouth and then closing it, floundering as he glances down from her eyes and back up again. Biting his lip, he manages a quiet, “Oh, goodness.” 

Leaning up and pulling him to her at the same time, she kisses him in an attempt to make her point clear. To her relief he eases into it quickly enough, following her lead with a soft sigh, enthusiastic in his ministrations. In the way his nails drag across her scalp and how his lips part the second she turns her head at just the right angle to deepen their kiss, as if they’d known how to kiss each other for  _ weeks _ instead of  _ hours. _

But the moment that she lets go of his face to reach for his shirt, tries to tug at him to urge him on top of her, he falters and pulls away. He’s flushed and a little dazed, breathing through his mouth as his hand shifts from her hair to her shoulder. Holding her back, or…?

“I’m sorry,” she says, without being sure why. She’s suddenly embarrassed and uncertain, that pleasant fluttering in her stomach twisting into discomfort.

“Don’t,” he says, swallowing, hard enough that she can see his throat bob. “Havine, dear, you have no need to apologize I… Goodness, I  _ told you _ I was terrible at this.”

He gives her a weak smile that she can’t help but return, some of those nameless, wordless worries quieting again. “No more terrible than me,” she reminds him gently.

“I don’t wish to presume...” Relentless pushes up on his elbow, that hand on her shoulder drifting down to her collarbone. “It has been some time and I… My dear, I don’t presume to know your mind, and I don’t want to offend you.”

Havine stares up at him, pausing for a moment before she covers her mouth as a laugh escapes her. “Relentless!” she blurts out, shaking as she tries to quiet herself. “I was  _ pulling _ you on top of me, I thought-- I-- Shall I make it plain for you?”

He gives her a look both affectionate and affronted. “I think I can manage from here, thank you, if you can spare my pride.”

She considers a quip in return, but as he leans in to kiss her again, she says in an anxious rush, “It's been a while for me, too.” He stops, pulls back, and meets her eye again. “But this… I want to do this. With you. With you especially, not because it's been…”

She winces, feeling very much like she's said the worst thing, but he chuckles low in his chest, cupping her face. “I don't see you embarrassed often. I hope you don't mind me saying I think it's adorable.”

That just makes her blush fiercer, cringing and frowning all at once. “Shut up and kiss me.”

His grin is downright  _ smug, _ the insufferable bastard. “I’m sorry, it seems as though it was  _ your _ pride that suffered--”

Havine takes hold of the base of his horn and pulls him down to her, his laughter melting into a low, pleased hum as his lips find hers again. Oh, she loves when he gets playful, when that serious, studious side of him slips away and she gets to discover what’s underneath. He’s joked with her before. Teased her. After six weeks on the road together they’d become fast friends, even though she’d expected him to be gone before too long. For him to find his own path after she’d set him to rights and helped him get his bearings. He didn’t leave. (He said he’d  _ stay _ .) But right now she just wants to kiss him, to feel his weight above her on this old lumpy mattress, to feel the world narrow down to just this tiny, rented room and the two of them.

Relentless tips his forehead towards hers after a moment, coming up for air, and she realizes she’s still holding onto his horn. Letting go, she traces down the side of his face, down his neck, and he shivers. He’s too close for her to focus on his eyes, but they look at each other anyway. 

“Let’s see if I remember what to do,” he murmurs, his voice low.

“It’s been long enough that I might not even notice if you fudge some details.”

Laughing, he presses a brief, happy kiss that’s too much of a smile to be proper to her mouth. “You are magnificent,” he breathes. “Truly, let me look at you.”

He lets her go to shift onto his knees, pulling her into a sitting position. As she starts to reach for the hem of her undershirt to pull it over her head, a warm, slender-fingered hand touches her wrist. She looks at him, confused, but stops.

“If you don’t mind,” he says slowly, removing her hands and slipping his own into their place, up beneath the fabric and skirting the waist of her trousers. All the while he holds her gaze, a heat there tempered by restraint.  _ Gods _ , he’s so polite, even now.

“If you want to,” she mumbles, trying to sound confident but faltering, caught off guard by his interest. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles and gives a small nod.

He’s touched her face, her hair, her hands, but his fingers sliding up her sides, warm and gentle, are something else entirely. His palms find the narrowest part of her waist and squeeze, gently, eliciting an unexpected hum of pleasure from Havine as she savors his touch. It’s agonizingly slow, the way he lingers for a moment before finally continuing his journey upwards, taking her shirt with him.

Once the shirt is gone, discarded over the side of the bed and leaving her in just her breast band, she can only guess what he must see. Ruddy skin layered with freckles faded and new, marred with two decades-worth of scars. Strong shoulders with arms to match from fighting and carrying gear and wandering the countryside. She’s not exactly what anyone would consider--

“Beautiful.”

She looks at him, incredulous, as he reaches for her waist with one hand, the other tracing up her arm. At first she means to protest, to argue, but the look on his face as his eyes trace over every detail, as if committing it all to memory… The words die on her lips and instead she feels her cheeks grow warm. That intense, honed focus never leaves her as his fingers slide to an ugly, puckered scar over her right breast. His touch is gentle, and his eyes meet hers.

“What happened here? A puncture wound?” he asks, rubbing his thumb over it lightly, as if he could soothe it away.

She nods, looking down at it, feeling grounded by his question. It was easier to talk of scars than him calling her ‘beautiful’. “A spear, during the rebellion. There’s a gap right here in the armor,” she reaches for the spot, pivots her shoulder and raises her arm, “so that you can move. I wasn’t paying enough attention with my shield and I got stuck. I didn’t think it was that bad at the time so I never healed it myself, and I needed to save what I could for people worse off than me…”

Trailing off, she refuses to let herself dwell on darker things (on people she couldn’t save, on deaths she feels she could have prevented), watching Relentless instead. He gives the puncture scar one last, gentle stroke before moving towards a thin, white scar across her collarbone. He traces it, studies it for a moment, and she waits for the question but it doesn’t come. But he looks at her for a moment, something tender in his gaze.

“You have quite a few scars,” he says, leaning in closer, cupping the side of her neck. Their noses are almost near enough to be touching. “You are an extraordinary woman, Havine, to have been through so much. One day I hope to have learned the stories behind each one.”

She’s blushing again, reaching up to grab his arm just so that she can touch him, so that she has something to hold onto. “They’re not all quite as exciting. There’s one on my knee from tripping over the neighbor’s dog as a girl, and there’s a handful I don’t even remember.”

“Each and every one is important,” he murmurs, inching close enough that she can’t quite focus on his eyes any more without straining. “They’re part of what make you who you are, and that is a wonder all of its own.”

She can’t take it. Havine turns her head towards the hand pressed against her neck, ducking slightly as she reaches up to cover her face. “You’re…  _ how _ can you say all of this so  _ easily _ ? I’m not…” He’s pulling her hand gently away from her face, leaning in to press soft kisses against her burning cheek, drifting towards her neck. Her voice is strained as she manages to say, “Relentless… You paint a much prettier picture than--  _ Oh. _ ”

His mouth is on her throat, nipping at her skin, immediately silencing her frantic thoughts. Biting her lip, she tries to restrain the soft moan building up in her chest as he closes over the spot where her neck joins her shoulder, alternating shallow sucking with grazes of his teeth and tongue. Her grip on him tightens, pressing close against him as that moan escapes her, quiet but plain enough. Relentless hums softly in reply, trailing back up the side of her neck, lingering there.

“I think I especially like this mark here,” he murmurs against her skin, nipping her again.

She cups the back of his head with her hand, her brain fumbling for a reply. “The scar or the new one you’re leaving?” she asks, voice strained almost to the point of embarrassment. When was the last time she’d sounded like  _ this? _

“I haven’t decided,” he says, pausing to trace a spot with his tongue. “I think I need more time to come to a thorough conclusion.” He sounds smug. Distinctly smug.

But as good as that feels, she starts to grow impatient. She turns her head to catch his lips with her own, kissing him as she reaches for the hem of his shirt. “ _ I _ think it’s my turn to undress  _ you _ ,” she says between breaths, her fingers groping for skin, eager for him.

Relentless, bless him or damn him, helps her with his shirt because she’s not tall enough to reach past his horns without kneeling, though she’s tempted to crawl into his lap for the extra height. But he makes the decision for her, taking hold of her waist and pulling her close, chest to chest as she straddles his legs. Their eyes meet for a moment before she glances down at him, at delicate purple skin and his slight frame.

“I can barely see you,” she protests, looking him in the eye again.

He tilts his head to the side, amused. “There isn’t much to see.”

This is the first time she’s been able to get a good look at him and here he is being stubborn. She leans back enough to get a look at his stomach, pressing her hand across the spot above his navel. He shifts to give her more room, watching her as she takes the moment to study his skin.

He’d had a gut wound when she found him, bleeding out on the side of the road and paler than she’d ever like to see him again. In shock, too, judging by the way he was alternating between staring at the tattered mess of his clothes and guts and then scribbling in that damn journal of his. If she hadn’t found him, he’d be dead right now. She knew that for a  _ fact _ .

But instead he’s here with her, without even a scar to show for how they’d met and when she looks up at him, satisfied with her handiwork, he’s smiling at her. Her heart gives a lurch in her chest, and she feels breathless.

“You’ve taken such good care of me, my dear,” he says, pressing in close to her again, one arm wrapped around her waist to hold her. “Allow me to return the favor, at least in part.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” she tells him, catching the side of his face as he leans in to kiss her. Her brow furrows, studying him as he looks at her with surprise. “Please, don’t… Don’t make this into you  _ repaying _ me or--”

Relentless covers her hand with his own, bowing his head for a moment before pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry. Forgive me, I was trying to be playful, but perhaps lacking in taste. That’s never what this was about.” He hesitates, tipping his head to kiss her, he pulls away when she doesn’t immediately reciprocate. “Havine? Dear?”

There’s a ball of tension suddenly building in her chest, threatening to burst as emotions well up inside of her. This was supposed to be  _ simple _ and  _ fun _ , like the other times with other people but… Those people hadn’t been him. And he was different. It snuck up on her, but he was  _ different _ . “Am I?  _ Dear _ to you?” she blurts out, resting her hands on his chest, meeting his eyes even as a part of her wants to hide her face. 

He looks at her, studying her, trying to read her like he reads  _ everything _ and for a moment he looks helpless. Confused and lost. “Of course you are,” he says, holding her waist. “I wouldn’t ever want you to think you were otherwise.”

“Oh,” she breathes, feeling dazed. Wetting her lips, she looks down at her hands, pale in comparison to his chest.

“...Is something wrong?” She hates that sound in his voice, the edge of worry, what she hopes isn’t  _ doubt _ .

“ _ No. _ No, I just…” Havine looks at him again, stealing time to try and find the right words by kissing him. 

He’s stiff at first, confused, but doesn’t let her doubt his earnestness. When she breaks away she can feel him try to follow her for a moment before he remembers himself, tucking his chin as his eyes slowly open again. He’s waiting for her to speak. 

She swallows. “I didn’t expect you,” she murmurs. “I could never have expected to find  _ you _ that day, or  _ this _ , or…” Hesitating, she steels herself. “For the longest time my life didn’t change. Even when we met, I thought I knew how it would all go. But you proved me wrong. You’re  _ still _ proving me wrong, Relentless. And I’ve never been more glad of it.”

“Sometimes you learn the most when you’re wrong,” he says, positively beaming at her as he pulls her in for another bruising kiss. 

She’s smiling when she comes up for air, a weight off her chest even as she does her best to shoot him an admonishing look. “Don’t sound so smug,” she says.

“I can’t say I know what you’re talking about,” he counters, arching a brow and looking mischievous. 

“Hey,” she says, and the seriousness in her tone is enough to sober him a little.

His voice is gentle as he says, “Yes?”

“I want you to know that you’re dear to me too.”

There’s a half a moment where his face goes slack and a look of surprise overtakes him. Then he’s smiling, a blush staining across his face and towards his ears, so plainly  _ glad _ that butterflies beat a frantic pattern in her stomach. “I--” He pauses. “I am more pleased than you may realize to hear that,” he says softly. As he speaks one hand drifts up her back, following the path of her spine. “And I would love, very much, to continue what we’ve started.”

The feel of his long, tapered nails up her back sends a shiver running through her, the implication of his words causing a thrill of want low in her belly. “Please,” she whispers against his lips.

As they kiss he loosens her breast band, pulling it away with deft fingers and easing her back onto the bed. He fits one leg between hers, bending over her as his mouth trails away from her lips, down her neck, lingering at her shoulder with shallow nips and bites until he has her gasping. Then, with a noise of satisfaction, he moves down to her breasts.

If his tongue had felt good on her neck, it feels  _ amazing _ when he cups the soft weight of her in one hand and draws her nipple into his mouth. The sound that she makes is downright  _ unseemly _ as the jolt of pleasure catches her by surprise, so much that she’s self-conscious enough to cover her face with one hand. (The walls of the dwarven inn were thick, surely no one, especially not  _ Aungor _ , could hear her?)

She doesn’t even notice the hand reaching for her wrist until he’s pulling it away from her face, looking up at her from his place between her breasts. His lids are heavy, his gaze full of heat. “Don’t,” he says, somewhere between an order and a desperate plea. “I want to hear you. I want to know each and every thing that makes you moan.”

“Oh  _ gods _ , Relentless,” she breathes, her voice weak and needy to her own ears. “You’re--  _ Hnng. _ ”

Whatever she was about to say flits from her mind as he drags his tongue over her other nipple, sounding pleased with her response as he makes a low noise in his chest. She even thinks she hears his tail sweep across the bed, once, twice, in that way it almost  _ wags _ when he’s happy or excited.

He’s so intent on each and every noise she makes that she’s afraid she’s going to have to beg him to finish undressing her, but right as she’s about to do so, when a pathetic, desperate whine builds in her throat, he pulls away and reaches for her trousers. Arching her back to help him, she’s almost annoyed with his amused chuckle and self-satisfied smile. Almost.

Then she’s naked before him, flushed and aching with need, and he just…  _ looks _ at her. Relentless is kneeling at her feet, scouring her with his eyes, then following with his hands. He drags his fingers up her legs, pausing as he seems to take note of that scar on her knee she’d mentioned before, over her thighs, grabbing at her wide hips as he bends over her, an expression filled with more admiration than she’s ever seen on his face.

He presses open-mouthed kisses across her stomach, to the hard bone of her hip, up between her breasts, climbing until he reaches her mouth and when he tries to be gentle she buries one hand into his hair, no doubt mussing that neat ponytail of his as the other grabs the base of his horn, claiming him fiercely. 

It’s her turn to feel satisfied with her handiwork when she leaves him breathless and stammering. “I… O-oh goodness. You are…  _ Magnificent _ , dear. Every inch of you.”

“And  _ you _ ,” she says, almost growling, “Are still far too dressed.”

“I don’t need to finish undressing for this,” he murmurs against her skin, leaning in close to kiss her, following the line of her jaw as she feels one of his hands slide down towards the join of her legs. Her hands spasm, grip on him tightening as he carefully brushes between her folds where she’s already damp and aching. “I’d hate to make you wait any longer than you already have.”

“Liar,” is all she can manage before he’s stroking her, her breath hitching as he presses his teeth into the crook of her neck, right in that spot that first made her moan. Of course. Of course he was taking mental note of it all.

It’s even clearer, somewhere underneath the haze that’s engulfed her mind, how much focus and effort he’s committing to this as he tests different patterns with his fingers, bends low over her breast and settles himself against her body. Each clench of her hands, each sharp breath and ragged gasp, every low moan must tell him something. 

She’d been so desperate, her whole body humming with need, that it only takes a few minutes of his careful attention to send her over the edge with a wordless moan. Clutching at him, shuddering as she arches forward to pull his face to hers, she breathes a curse against his lips as his fingers begin to slow, easing her through until her muscles finally start to relax and she whines at the intensity of his touch. 

“I hope that was as good as it sounded,” he murmurs, kissing her forehead with a tenderness that makes her heart flutter. 

“Oh yes,” she says, giving him a bleary smile. Framing his face with her hands, she looks at him, studying him before carefully taking hold of his glasses. He looks perplexed for a moment but doesn’t stop her as she pulls them off and reaches over to set them aside. It’s strange, seeing him without the delicate frames, and he blinks owlishly as his vision adjusts. That makes her smile brighter, affection swelling in her chest as she kisses the bridge of his nose, right between his eyes. 

He’s so handsome, and somehow  _ hers _ , and…

Her hand goes for his trousers but he stops her, giving her an apologetic look. “Allow me,” he says, reaching behind him. “I’m afraid mine aren’t as simple as yours. There’s a tie for the opening for my tail, so they don’t just pull off.”

But she doesn’t let that stop her. She follows him as he sits up, wrapping her arms around him to follow his fingers with her own, resting her cheek against the center of his chest. She can hear the fast tempo of his heart, his quickened breaths, and he lets out an indulgent laugh as he guides her to the right spot.

“I need to know for next time,” she says.

Relentless falters, his fingers fumbling as he takes hold of hers instead of what he was reaching for. She can feel his tail twitch as he tips his head to look down at her. “Oh, I… Yes. Yes, of course,” he says, sounding surprised and pleased and  _ oh _ how could he not expect there to be a next time?

He leans down to kiss her hair, showing her where the small tie is right at the base of his spine, at the join where back becomes tail, and he lets her tug it free. Then he guides her hands to his hips, where his trousers are already coming loose, and follows her as she pushes them down towards his knees. 

In what can only be described as  _ incredibly _ unfair, Relentless takes hold of her hands and eases her back onto the bed, denying her the chance to admire him the way he had with her. Instead he lets her go and shifts the rest of the way out of his clothes, sparing little time in returning to his place above her, nudging her legs apart with his knees and leaning down to kiss her before she can comment.

Anything she might have said is gone, anyway, as she feels the length of him stroke against her, one hand lacing his fingers through hers as he settles himself. Something brushes against her ankle and she realizes after one hazy, confused moment that it’s his tail, wrapping around her calf the way she’s seen it wrap around his own leg dozens of times. It’s strange, but comforting, one more bit of him holding onto her and keeping her close.

She shifts beneath him, rising up to press against him, but he waits, raising his head to look at her. He’s flushed, tiny bits of his hair have escaped (thanks to her, undoubtedly) from his tidy ponytail, but he stops to say, “Is this alright, dear? Do you want me to keep going?”

She struggles for a moment on how to answer that question. She could laugh at the sheer incredulity of it, or get agitated and impatient, or express to him how eager she is, how much she  _ wants _ him. Somehow she hopes that her ragged, “ _ Yes! _ ” is enough to encompass all of those things.

Squeezing her fingers, he bends down to kiss her as his hips shift, dragging himself down her in a way that would make her curse if her mouth wasn’t already occupied. But she wouldn’t have time to accuse him of teasing because then he’s pressing inside of her, filling her slowly, carefully, letting out one long groan of his own as he stops, giving them both a moment to adjust. She can feel his breath on her lips, the slight tremble in his hands as he holds her tightly. And for once he has no words, he just looks at her, for one long moment before he presses his cheek against hers and draws out so that he can give another slow stroke deep into her.

Gasping, Havine’s eyes squeeze shut as she clutches the side of his neck with her free hand, his teeth finding her ear before returning to her neck, nudging her chin back so he can follow the column of her throat. His thrusts start slow, languid and gentle, easing them both through the first moments of finding their rhythm. With her gentle urging, her free leg hooking around his and pulling him closer, he presses harder, finding a spot that makes her bite back a gasp and dig her fingers into his hand. He focuses there, his breath going ragged, exerting himself to build up that tension deep inside of her, to wind her up until it finally snaps. Her moan is muffled by his mouth and he wraps his arm around her, holding her close, and as her body clenches around him he tears away from their kiss to bury his face in the crook of her shoulder, pulling out at the last second as he goes rigid and clutches her tightly, shuddering.

As her body goes limp, feeling weak and satisfied, she gives his hand a feeble squeeze and cups his face, tipping it so she can look at him. It takes him a moment, panting for breath, to let his muscles go slack and meet her gaze. It takes another moment for his eyes to focus, to see the smile on her face and return it with a weary chuckle.

“I’m sorry, you’re a little blurry,” he says, squinting letting himself collapse halfway on top of her. He rests his cheek on her chest, still trying to catch his breath.

“Funny, I feel the same way. And I don’t even need glasses,” she says, giggling with the giddy euphoria currently swimming in her chest. “Or, I mean… I  _ feel _ blurry, I… Sorry that doesn’t… I can’t think right now.”

“I’ll take that as a job well done.” There’s that smug (unfocused) look again as he picks up his head, willing himself to move beside her and gather her up in his arms.

She goes, happily, her leg still caught up in his tail as she tangles herself up in him, too hot to care about a blanket as she nestles against his chest. “See, you remembered what to do,” she mumbles.

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and running his fingers through her hair. “Quite,” he says simply, and for the moment they fall silent, basking in the afterglow.


End file.
